


Show, Not Tell

by onion_soup



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Also this is my first fic, Angst, Canon Compliant, Everyone Needs A Hug, How Do I Tag, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Kinda, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), So yeah, The others are mentioned but don't really speak, and very bad, i guess, this is hella short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24924664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onion_soup/pseuds/onion_soup
Summary: “The best I could ever do for the team is step down.”Lance’s words echo in his mind, a breath of remembrance, of an insecurity quietly voiced. Keith was never good with words, never good at consoling others. Sentences became jumbled, phrases delivered with a cutting edge, blunt and unforgiving. There were so many things he wanted to say, things to say about how the team needs Lance, how he needs Lance. But no matter how much he wanted to assure Lance that he isn’t the seventh wheel, how he could never be the seventh wheel, the words caught in his throat, a poor excuse for a joke on his tongue in lieu of all the things he wanted to say.So, he told Lance in the only way he knew how.
Relationships: Keith & Voltron Paladins, Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Show, Not Tell

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is very short and very bad, and i wrote this in about 30 minutes, but oh well, enjoy (This is also the first fic I'm gonna publish so that's cool).

The once brightly lit halls seem dim, fleeting memories brushing through Keith’s mind as he walks along side the pristine walls. He’s still dressed in his Marmorite armor, the sleek Galran armor a stark contrast to his alarmingly Altean surroundings. He knows what he’s going to face once he walks through the doors: the cold stares that that once been so warm, the hard set of a mouth that once held so many fond smiles. 

_“Why?”_

Keith told himself it was because of the mission, since he could help the Blade more than he could ever help Voltron. They don’t need him, that much apparent after their run-in with Lotor. He was only acting as a substitute in Shiro’s place, and now that Shiro is back, there’s no need for him anymore.

Why use the replacement when the original has returned?

The mission is more important than the individual, and his mission resides within the Blade of Marmora. 

But as Keith glances back at his friends, who had eventually grown into his family, for what may be the last time, he knew it wasn’t true, that it wasn’t the only reason. He knew that he could fight for his position, that he could set aside his Marmora duties in favor for improving for the universe’s sake, for his team’s sake. 

_“The best I could ever do for the team is step down.”_

Lance’s words echo in his mind, a breath of remembrance, of an insecurity quietly voiced. Keith was never good with words, never good at consoling others. Sentences became jumbled, phrases delivered with a cutting edge, blunt and unforgiving. There were so many things he wanted to say, things to say about how the team needs Lance, how _he_ needs Lance. But no matter how much he wanted to assure Lance that he isn’t the seventh wheel, how he could _never_ be the seventh wheel, the words caught in his throat, a poor excuse for a joke on his tongue in lieu of all the things he wanted to say. 

So, he told Lance in the only way he knew how.

It started small: training more with his fellow Blade members, a skipped meal in favor of attending another mission. Ultimately, the gestures grew larger, more pronounced. A skipped mission, spending several quintents in the Blade headquarters. Eventually, the gap between him and his team more and more, until they weren’t _his_ team anymore, until he wasn’t even a part of them. At that point, Keith only tagged along for specific missions, a player, and yet not a member of the team.  
Keith never told anyone anything, if he did, the meaning of his words would be misinterpreted, a threat emerging from an offer to help, a tease from a mere statement. All his true intent, his feelings were better displayed through his actions: a small nod, a gifted plate of food goo, a few brief pieces of advice regarding sword play. Lance needed to know, to understand that he still holds a place in the team, both as the Red Paladin and as the glue that kept the Paladins together. 

So, Keith showed him.

He knew it would happen eventually, with him spending more and more time acting as a member of the Blade of Marmora. Keith would be off on a mission, leaving the Paladins without their Black Paladin. All it would take is a particularly brave fleet of Galra soldiers to attack, the task of defeated them made all that more difficult with the absence of one lion. 

Shiro is selfless to a fault. He would lay down his own desires in order to see Keith fulfill his role of Black Paladin, whether or not Keith had chosen that role for himself, whether or not him being in that role is good for the team. Not even Shiro could ignore this: his negligence to team Voltron, in favor of chasing some new kind of quintessence used by the Prince of a long-lived Empire that had existed for far too long. 

The Black lion seemed to agree.

Their discussion didn’t last long, barely a few words spoken on his part, after all, he didn’t have to say much.

They already realized what he had known from the start. 

Keith allows himself one last moment of respite in the arms of the Paladins, forcing himself to relax into the warm hug that had once felt so right. With a start, he recognizes the brightness in his former teammates’ eyes, how Pidge’s words are rendered in half by a barely suppressed sob: They’re trying not to cry. 

He doesn’t understand their emotions, they all know that this is the best for everyone, a solution that would result in all the Paladins in their rightful place. Regardless, it’s still mildly comforting to see the tears in their eyes, evidence that they care for him, despite Keith not seeing any reason why. He only brought them pain, anger and frustration when he would race into battle with little to no warning, how he would discard all their deterrents regarding his commands during his role of Black Paladin.

The embrace doesn’t end soon enough, and yet passed far too swiftly, despite how _wrong_ it feels. Keith steps back, turning towards the door and placing his hand against the panel, making it slide open with a hiss and a breath of air.  
Keith glances over his shoulder, letting his eyes roam over the Paladins in turn, committing their features to memory: Pidge’s fine boned features, the way she stands with her arms slightly lifted from her sides, like a bird ready to take flight. The warmth in Hunk’s eyes, his kind smile twisting to betray his sorrow. Allura’s breathtaking contrast between star spun hair and dark skin, the way she holds herself every bit a queen- regal and poised. Shiro’s scar and his now colder eyes, yet still holding the wisp of kindness that had been a burning star during their time together at the Garrison. And… Lance.

Lance with his tan skin and bright blue eyes, the cerulean shade darkening to a deeper cobalt the closer it gets to his pupil. The teasing, yet sad, smirk that plays across his mouth, twisting his expression into something akin to fondness. Keith has so many things to say to him, whispers of promises and feelings long hidden dancing on his tongue, with the potential to be spoken with just a breath. 

And yet… the sweet sentiments die as his throat seizes up, mouth drying like the desert he had left behind so long ago. 

With one final nod he turns, facing the stretch of hallway of a castle that had once been his home. He does not look back.

_I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> ahaha i tried


End file.
